


You Deserve Much Better Than Me

by Floch_Lover



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10487064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floch_Lover/pseuds/Floch_Lover
Summary: {First AOT Fanfic, cut me some slack}The story of a soldiers struggles, from life till after the war, and the effects it will have afterward





	1. Chapter 1

Do you know how much it hurts? Do you know how much it hurts to watch the love of your life, the one person you want to spend the rest of your life with, push you away because your issues fucked up your relationship with them? 

I do. I do because that's exactly what I did. My name is Bertholdt Hoover, I fell in love with my best friend Marco Bott when we were in middle school. I acted so nervous around him, always playing with my hands, hugging myself or following him around like almost puppy dog. You see, in my younger years I was an outcast, not many people really talked to me and I was usually rather lonely, I was the weird kid in school and my parents were too busy fighting to pay attention to their only son, so to have someone actually show interest in me or want to talk to me was so ecstatic that I became almost a leech to him. I never wanted Marco to go away, because I was so worried about being alone again.  
Loneliness is like a prison. You feel trapped inside your own mind with no means of escape, nothing but your pounding heartbeat and screaming thoughts. You have no reason for anything, because you have no one you're working for, no one you're trying to impress, no one to support you, nothing. I was alone for years, my mother had taken her own life when I was younger, and my father became so consumed with himself after her death that he shut everyone out. He stopped talking to friends, stopped talking to me, just locked himself in his room.  
After that I started learning to do things on my own, because I had to, I had no one supporting me anymore. I learned to cook on my own, clean on my own, laundry and such. I was forced to grow up in order to survive.  
I met Marco when he transferred to our school, he had saved me from a few bullies who wanted to hurt me during seventh grade. He just, swooped in and told them to fuck off, and for some reason...they did.

No one picked on me again after that.

He even helped me get cleaned up, and after that happened I just..clung to him, I followed him around the school, sat with him during lunch, clung to him during break hours, I never wanted to be away from him.  
It wasn't until the 9th grade that I realized I had fallen in love with him.

Anxiety hit the moment I clued myself in; I could never tell him my feelings, the rejection would be too much to handle. My heart might literally break in half, why if I never recovered? What if I never fell in love again?  
My hands clung to my head as I gripped it and shook my head, I couldn't tell him, his rejection might be the final straw.  
What if he starts acting weird around me if I tell him? I can't do it...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind I'm still new at writing fanfics and I do have some writing/speech impediments due to a few mental health issues. 
> 
> So please bear with me if it's a little hard to understand or if I have grammatical errors, but I do always appreciate feedback

I walked into my school the next day, and was surprised to be greeted by none other than Marco,  
His freckled face illuminated itself amongst the sea of faces in our crowded school halls.  
He smiled and walked with me to my class, turns out we had the same first period and it was then we introduced one another.

"I'm Marco Bodt, what's your name?"  
"Bertholdt...thanks for yesterday."

Marco smiled and let out a little chuckle, soft and delicate.  
"It's no problem, they're lowlife's anyway."

His reassurance calmed me, and I actually felt kind of safe. No one could hurt me with Marco around.

____

July 4th, 1916

I finally married Marco Bodt, we got married in a church with the fireworks going off behind us.  
I had asked him to marry me at his favorite restaurant, I was ecstatic to hear him say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's really short  
> The next one will probably be longer


	3. Chapter 3

I left for the war in 1918, a little after Germany had declared war on a few other countries. God how I wished they hadn't, I didn't want to leave home to fight in a war, I didn't want to leave Marco.   
Inevitably, I had no other choice, and we set off for war around march, and I prayed I would come back home in one piece, or home at all.

 

I was one of the frontline soldiers of the battlefield, my objective was to fire at any soldiers that moved up from their trenches, and that's exactly what I did.  
Many young men were brave enough to jump over the trench, both from our side and our opponents, but as quickly as they got up they were shot down. All that was seen was soldiers dropping to the ground one after the other, one from our side even stumbled down into our trench. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

 

His eyes were wide open....

 

As quick as I had seen him I had also quickly seen the other soldiers begin to charge at us, blood and gore filling the air and my eyes as men fell to the ground with thuds and cracks. The next thing I knew I was forced to fire randomly as I was charged at all directions, I felt a knife go into my shoulder before I managed to shove my assailants nose up into their face before firing again.  
I was covered in blood, soaked in it.   
I was in severe pain and afraid, the only sound was gunfire and bombs.   
It was hours before I managed to find a place to shield myself from their firing, and two more hours before the gunshots slowly subsided.   
When I had looked up from my hiding spot I saw a wasteland, bodies were strewn around the former battlefield, there was weapons scattered everywhere all coated in blood and scratches.   
It was horrible to see all these young lives lost so quickly and brutally.   
Every single body laying on this earth had a family, had an identity, had someone who was waiting for them at home. They all had a place to call home.

I couldn't protect my men...I couldn't protect my soldiers.  
It was my duty to lead them into battle and to help us win this war, but I couldn't save them. There were more than 100 casualties and it was all my fault...I couldn't win.   
I failed and lost this fight, at the cost of most of my soldiers.   
How were we going to inform the families?..

 

It was two more years before the war ended and I finally got to go home...but what would I tell Marco?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it's a little inaccurate


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please cut me some slack, this is my first PTSD oriented fic

We lost the war, our country had to forfeit due to loss and lack of defense. We had failed...I had failed.

 

I wrote each individual letter to all of the families of the deceased soldiers in my platoon, explaining that their little boy would not come home ever again. I tried to do it as gently as possible, but no amount of sugarcoating could ease their loss, and I knew that, it drove me insane.   
It was my fault, I should have pulled out of that fight or moved them to another location, maybe then we either wouldn't have had as many casualties as we did. There must have been something I could have either done or done differently that could have changed the outcome. God, how could I have been such a fucking fool....what had I done?...

 

____

 

I stood in front of the door to my home, clad in my war uniform all dazzled up in medals and ribbons as I stared. That's all I did was stare at the door to my home. I was too afraid to open it, too afraid to face my husband. What would I tell him? How could I explain to him that I failed him? That I failed our country?  
I stood before it for what felt like hours before I finally slowly opened the door, and stepped inside, my face forlorn and blank.

Marco walked out in front of me and started to cry as he rushed to hug me. Usually he felt warm, felt like home, usually I got a warm feeling inside when he hugged me.   
Only this time, I didn't feel anything. I felt numb, empty and hollow. I didn't hug him back, I couldn't will myself to do it. Instead I just kept walking in with him and taking my things back to my room...  
My own room. It felt so different, it felt so strange, like it wasn't really my room, like this wasn't really my house and that the person I left downstairs wasn't really my husband. I still felt like some kind of machine of war, I felt like...like I wasn't myself, like there was something inside pretending to be me, in order to function properly and not break down at every given moment. 

 

"Bertholdt?.."

When I heard my name I turned slightly to see the tear stained face of Marco, who was now standing in the doorway of 'my' room. He stepped closer and set his hand on my shoulder, I flinched and backed away from him as he stared at me in confusion.   
Something wasn't right, none of this felt right. This didn't feel like my room. I stared at him before moving away and muttering that I needed a minute before slamming the door shut and locking it.   
My mind had convinced itself that this was still war, and little did I know of the hell that was soon to come.

**Author's Note:**

> {Edit: Please Note I was incredibly depressed when I wrote this, this was a source of venting for me}


End file.
